Page 58 of Fake Crown

“Do you want to go out for an early dinner?” I ask on impulse. “Maybe catch a movie?”

She peers at me, and I can see the wheels turning. God forbid we do anything that might feel like a real date. Dinner and a movie is a radical plan.

“It seemed like you were saying we’d been spending too much time together.”

“Did it?” Earlier I was trying to keep from losing my cool over her vague answers. I slide my hand down to rest in the hollow before the curve of her ass. “Might as well enjoy the time we’ve got, right?”

“Hmm.” She taps her bottom lip and then gives a slow nod. “I get to pick where we eat.”

“Fine by me. I’ll eat anything.”

“I’m aware.” She chuckles and rolls off me.

I follow her and pin her to the bed. “Might need an appetizer before the main course.”

Posey gives me a sly smile and spreads her legs. “I’ve got one right here.”

“Just what I ordered,” I say as I trail kisses down her body and then slide my hands under her ass to tip up her pelvis. She digs her fingers into my hair, and when I glance up at her, utter contentment falls over me like a blanket. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than in this bed with her.

“What?” she whispers.

I won’t say it, but the realization doesn’t send a shot of panic through me either. Deacon said someone would break down Posey’s high walls someday, and I’m starting to think I’m up for the challenge.

“You’d better find something to hold on to,” I say. “I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll be thinking about it for days.”

“It’s a shame you lack so much confidence.” She lets out a throaty chuckle.

“A real mood killer,” I say, and with that, I flick my tongue along her slit. She clutches at the bed sheets and rolls her hips.

“More,” she says.

She’s going to get more. So much more than she bargained for, and I slide my tongue between her slick folds before covering her clit with my lips.

Posey suggests we go to a hole-in-the-wall place on the outskirts of the southern end of campus. Earlier, I went home after practice to work up my nerve to come here and call off our fake relationship, so my car is here. Worked out beautifully.

Pretty sure I’ve convinced myself I want the real thing instead.

The first heavy snow is supposed to fall sometime tonight. We’re still shivering from the cold, and my car hasn’t had a chance to warm up by the time we reach the restaurant parking lot. She didn’t tell me where we were going, so when I park the car, I stare up at the big blue sign.

“What’s Bellerive’s obsession with blue?” In bold lettering, the restaurant is simply called Bellerive Cuisine. Not exactly inventive, but I suppose it gets the point across. Here’s hoping the sign isn’t reflective of the food quality.

“What’s America’s obsession with red, white, and blue?”

“Touché, Jensen.” I open my door and follow her to the entrance.

The minute we step inside, I’m relieved to see the tacky sign out front bears zero resemblance to the professional gray-and-white décor inside, which relies on splashes of Bellerive’s signature blue hue here and there.

“Did you design this place?” I cock my head.

She glances at me over her shoulder, and there’s a flush in her cheeks that isn’t from the cold. “What gave me away?”

Nothing. And everything. This place feels like her.

“Posey!” An older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and a graying beard approaches us from the back of the empty restaurant. “You finally brought us a boyfriend?” He extends his hand to me. “She only ever brings her roommates, and my wife and I have the hardest time believing no man has snapped her up.”

“She’s so slick and slippery, she’s hard to snap up.” I take his hand, and he chuckles while Posey elbows me.

“He’s not my boyfriend. That’s what he meant to say.” Posey waves me off.